


A Child of Air

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Friends, Gen, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Prompto wants to know what Ignis was like as a child. Noct tells him. (Ignis Fluff Week Day 1: Scraped Knees)





	A Child of Air

**Author's Note:**

> I fail hard at fluff, but I hope this is at least a bit fuzzy.

"So, so, so," Prompto starts as soon as Ignis pulls out onto the road. He twists around to hug his seat, one foot braced in the footwell and the other bouncing in anticipation. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror shows Noct to be nominally interested in whatever Prompto's up to. "So you promised to tell me what Ignis was like as a kid."

Oh, _fuck no_. "I was unaware my private life was entertainment fodder for your friends," Ignis says, inflectionless. He doesn't need to make the threat explicit; Noct winces and rubs his ear guiltily, and in the seat next to him, Prompto sags.

Shockingly, Gladio lowers his book and jabs Ignis in the shoulder. "Wouldn't kill you to show your human side occasionally."

Hypocritical words coming from Gladio, Ignis thinks, but he glances sideways at Prompto, who has subsided back into his seat and has his phone in his hand. Ignis knows more-or-less about Prompto's childhood, of course. There was a dossier, and he's ashamed now to recall that he's read it – all the details about his adoptive parents, his marks in school, his health records. Gladio has too, he supposes, and Noct would be _livid_ if he found out.

He wonders if Prompto really considers him heartless; the idea sits badly with him. They're supposed to have each others' backs. And Ignis is a fun person, if he does say so himself.

"One embarrassing anecdote," Ignis says. "For the purpose of edification."

Prompto snorts, but turns his head to look back at Noct expectantly. "Quick, edify me."

Noct's smirk keeps on widening, and Ignis suspects he's let himself in for trouble.

"So the thing about Ignis," Noct starts, "is he doesn't actually care about the rules."

Ignis frowns. "I beg your pardon?" Whatever he expected, it wasn't _that_.

In the backseat, Noct is laughing at him. "You _don't_. I think it offends you that you have to obey gravity."

"He's working on that," Gladio mutters, not even looking up from his book.

"I mean – " Noct is fumbling for words, but Prompto doesn't seem to mind – "his guiding principles are set in _stone_ , but rules can be useful or _stupid_ , you know? So, story – when I started school, someone had the bright idea that because I had Gladio as my Shield, Ignis should be sent to etiquette hell – table manners, piano and dancing lessons, fifty ways to tie a necktie. They just never asked Ignis what _he_ thought the prince's advisor needed to know."

"The necktie lessons paid off," Prompto says. Ignis cocks an eyebrow and murmurs _thank you_ , insincerely. Prompto grins; they're back to teasing, and it's... a relief, he thinks. "So was there rebellion?"

"Eh." Noct's smile is nostalgic and fond. "Someone escaped from the music room – and I mean _literally_ , out the window and down the decorative stonework four stories off the ground – showed up at my door like the flaming vengeance of Ifrit, and announced he was joining the Crownsguard."

"Hold up," Gladio says, splaying his book down on his leg. "Seriously? The fall would've killed you."

Ignis rolls his shoulders back. "I never fell. Obviously."

Noct coughs in a way that sounds suspiciously like _tightrope_ , but he knows he's only allowed one anecdote. And he'll follow the rules if he knows what's good for him.

"So," Noct continues, like he's annoyed to be interrupted. "We go down to the training hall – by the back stairs – and march right into the Marshall's office. Turns out there's a law from, like, the rule of King Nubis, where you can join the Crownsguard if you win a duel." That faint inward smile returns. "I don't think Cor'd ever been challenged by anyone half his size before, but you know, he didn't tell us to run off and play. He got out the training swords and was... very patient. Right, Specs?"

"I despise being humored," Ignis says, and Noct snorts in amusement.

"Thing is, ever since I was little, I've been able to hide things using magic. Probably freaked my dad out when he kept finding stuffed animals and cups of pudding in the Armiger, but he didn't tell me to stop. And it wasn't hard to show Ignis how to do it, but we didn't tell anyone about that. Tactical advantage. So when Ignis realized he was going to be beaten – " Noct crosses his arms and nods, like the story ends there.

Prompto makes a frustrated noise. "What?" He looks to Ignis, then Gladio. "What?"

"I remember thinking very clearly that I needed to protect Noctis," Ignis says. "Which is, one might say, my sole guiding principle."

Prompto flails, and it's Gladio who takes mercy on him. "Iggy yanked a fucking huge broadsword out of the Armiger like he was going to lop Cor's head off. Course, he didn't figure on the sword weighing more than he did, and 'cause he's a stubborn bastard he kept both hands on the hilt as it fell and dragged him to the ground."

"Blood everywhere," Noct says, gleefully morbid. "And poor Cor trying to find out if Ignis chopped off all his fingers with me bawling my head off and trying to kick him away."

"Which was when the King showed up." Ignis can't even feel retroactive mortification on behalf of his younger self; he's still – secretly – proud of pulling that off.

" _I suppose there's a good explanation for all this_ ," Noct quotes, deepening his voice in imitation of his father. "And the Marshall sitting on the floor covered in blood and children, saying, no, there really wasn't." He gives Prompto a wry smile. "Everything turned out fine. The duty nurse bandaged all scraped knees and elbows, no fingers were lost, my dad thought the story was funny. We got to have ice cream for dinner for a week."

Gladio shoves Noct's shoulder. "Because Iggy broke his front teeth off on the damn sword."

"They grew back," Noct protests. "Eventually."

"So the moral of the story," Gladio says, picking his book up again like he's done with being distracted, "is you can tell Iggy to smile for the camera all you like, but he's always gonna hide his teeth. It's instinct."

"Also, that threatening people with swords is an excellent way to get out of piano lessons," Noct adds. "F-Y-I."

"I'm more worried about how to get out of being threatened by people with swords." Prompto smacks Ignis' leg with the back of his hand. "Maybe you should play the piano for them." He puts his phone away and pulls out his camera instead. "All right, I'm on a mission. Operation Toothy Grin." He gives Ignis a hopeful look, but there's no way Ignis will make this easy for him. He keeps his eyes on the road; Prompto huffs in feigned annoyance. "Be like that. I know a hundred and one chocobo jokes, and one of them is going to crack that composure like a nut."

"Bring it," Ignis says, on a tide of competitive camaraderie.

Noct slumps against Gladio's shoulder and lets his eyes fall shut; Gladio flips pages in loud irritation; and Prompto cracks one terrible joke after another, as they speed toward the setting sun.


End file.
